there was something in the autumnal airto begin with: not a chill, an awakeningas soon as I stepped out of the houseI breathed in the crisp chill of possibilityand, as I turned toward the car, I sawthe sky – cloudless, clear, and colored inopen invitation blue; all that was missingwas a soundtrack, which I added onceI started the car and drove into my day(new indigo girls, if you must know)would that the day had stayed as clear,that something more materialized thanthe rhythmic restlessness of routine,but I saw more stove than sun – still,as I drove home in the dark and parkedin the same driveway where I had seenand felt joy sidle up like an old friendI could still sense the shadows of hopelurking in the last vestiges of the gardenwaiting for daylight; this is not over yet.